What's In a Name
by julepontheporch
Summary: Clint takes a grieving Wanda into his home. After an evening with the Bartons, she is left indifferent. But sometimes long conversations under the midnight sky on a farmhouse porch can change perspectives. Set post AoU. One-shot.


"I didn't know you drank whiskey."

"Scotch. Tony is very generous."

The quiet of the night descended upon the Barton estate. Everyone was asleep, save the girl in the red dress and the man in a plaid shirt.

"I don't really drink that often. Wife and kids and all. But I can't think about… this, not intoxicated."

She looked at him as he took a final big swing.

"I'm sorry for making you drink."

"Never apologize for a man making an excuse."

The winds of summer faltered and short whisperings of colder months swept through the air. Clint breathed in the air deeply. He noticed Wanda wasn't shivering.

"Would you like to go inside?"

"I cannot find sleep."

"Sleep might find you."

"So will the metal men. The Metal Man. The ticking bomb. The twisted scientists. My selfish brother."

Her eyes were glazed yet blank, a cold pallor etched onto her skin. She would not look at the beauty of the intricate sky, yet the luminance of the moon shone upon her face. Mesmerizing, mysterious, and so far away.

"He was not selfish with me."

"Because he gave his life for yours?" Wanda suddenly exclaimed, her eyes looking at Clint but no expression in it gave him any idea on what to say. She glanced away.

The pale moon drew two rivers down her face, "He should have taken mine as well."

Seven years he has been a father. Ten years, a husband. A beautiful wife, and a charming daughter. His best friend, the deadliest double-agent in the entire world, who can take down governments, underground criminals, and the Incredible Hulk. Despite all his cumulative knowledge about how the closest women in his life think, none of them get close to Wanda Maximoff. Sure, Natasha hits close. And yet, still so far. Clint poured another shot of scotch down his glass.

"Do you know why we named our son Nathaniel?"

She shook her head, dried tears forming indecipherable lines on her face, yet her eyes started to blink. Awareness was coming back.

"A long while back… I was about to leave Laura. Yes, Fury gave me this wonderful house, a small farm, and kept her safe at all costs. A long while back, when Cooper was just a toddler, and Lila just born, I was just laying low for SHIELD. Remember how I can resist your mind manipulation? Yeah, it plays in this story. You see, Thor's brother Loki just happened to be the first to ever manipulate my mind. Got into the very essence of me. Shot Fury, killed innocent people, almost killed my team-mates. In a weird test of fate, Natasha came through me. I was set to kill her, kid… But she got through me first. Knocked me out. Knocked the connection out. She saved me."

"I didn't know you can break mind connection by getting punched by the Black Widow."

"Yup… Messy as it seems, her making me unconscious was strong enough to remove that mind control. And you know what? I was ready to drop my family there and then. With the possibility of being controlled by evil, to have them manipulate me… I became a threat. A living, breathing, very real threat."

Wanda brought her eyes to him and noticed how the shot he poured hasn't been downed. She took it from him and gave it a swing. He smiled, yet his eyes betrayed him.

"I couldn't let Laura sleep next to me. I was… A danger. I could not have my children call me father. So I told Nat what I thought was best for them."

"Did she punch you unconscious again?"

"Yeah, she wanted to make sure," Barton said, with a satisfied laugh. Wanda chuckled at the thought, and made a mental note to ask Natasha's version of the story.

"But I was very much myself. We got in a fight. She fought for Laura very hard. She knew it was out of my love for them that I made that decision. But it was out of her love for us… For my family, that I stayed. She said… The only person that would have been affected if Loki took me was Laura. That she brought me back for my family. She knew I was a threat. She knew I could have been re-controlled. But she loved them so much. If I were… to be… physically… absent…"

Wanda noticed the trailing of his voice, the slight tremble in his hand. Despite swearing not manipulate her teammates minds again, she couldn't resist brushing Clint's emotional ring, soothing it so he could let the words flow.

"If I were to… you know… she would assure me that my family would be protected," was his response, stoic, yet more calm, "She would protect them even from myself, if worse came to worst. But she wanted me to be there. Take my place as a father."

 _Don't take your family for granted_ , was a line he heard from her, but omitted. _Mine was never there. And I could not have one of my own, either._

Wanda was now sitting next to him, and he felt a warm radiance emitting from her. It was somewhat comforting, somewhat letting him know, It is good, despite never hearing her voice. Clint could feel her presence getting stronger, yet calmer, less indifferent.

"And so I promised her my next child would have the honour of bearing her name. Or, at least now, somewhat close to that."

She commanded the blanket into her hand, wrapped it around her thin frame, and spoke in a broken voice, "Why are you telling me this, Clint?"

"Because I want you to know what your brother allowed me to be as well."

She looked at him, her once glazed eyes now with wells of tears forming around them, and a smile that broke his heart. "Pietro… He might not know, but he made sure I could continue being a father, a husband… He might not know, but my children will not know half of your suffering, losing your parents at a young age. He might not know that what he gave me that time I would have freely given away at another time, and yet I am here, and my son, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, is sleeping up there, next to my wife, with my world safely revolving around them. And your brother… will never know how much I owe him."

He let her sob, and cry, and make the most heartbreaking noises he has ever heard. The sound of an orphaned child, being even more alone in this world. He did not know why he told her this, all he knew was that he wanted her to know of his gratitude, of his respect, that the life he now holds was overturned by the loss of hers. _I must have not phrased that well… Barton thought, guilt and sorrow overfilling his mind. Telling her I name my kids after people who made sure I could continue living as an often-absent father. Great idea, Barton._

And yet Wanda's warm presence in his mind buzzed with an exciting energy that has been absent since the day Pietro left Wanda. He never felt her so… alive. He heard her chuckle and gave her a questioning look.

"My selfish brother… Selfish with his desire to help others. Selfish with his desire to die a hero. Selfish with his desire to give up his life for you… " she finally spoke, shaking her head as she wiped away her tears. She knotted her brows and suppressed the next wave of waterfalls, and instead looked up at the sky.

"I say selfish because I know he is not, and I am. When Vision saved me from the collapsing bus, I was not thankful. All I wanted was to crumble and waste. Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes."'

Wanda's voice was halting and hoarse, her accent fighting the words she says, and he thinks, _If only I can communicate to you in your own language, I want to understand you._

She felt the generousness of Clint and gave him a reassuring smile. "Barton, I am glad you are alive. I am glad your children will have an ever present father. I am glad Laura will have her husband next to her. I do not wish for things to have happened otherwise…" Her pause let his mind relax, and saw her as the confused child who blamed all death and destruction upon herself as they hid in the ruins of an apartment back during the Battle of Sokovia. _So young, so hurt,_ he cursed himself, being reminded that Pietro was her twin, _yet so kind, and so wise._

"I need to be stronger Clint. I need to live up to my brother. My life will only be wasted if it is protecting someone as precious as your children. I will not let his sacrifice go to waste."

And he saw her, more than just the fragile child in Sokovia, but as a warrior, born from the ruins of her decimated country, the sorrows of her destroyed childhood, and the tragedy of her youth.

 _Kid, if I could only be half as strong as you._


End file.
